


For The Game's Own Sake

by Loremaiden



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 08:21:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1933740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loremaiden/pseuds/Loremaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes fears the inevitable has already come to pass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For The Game's Own Sake

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to JWP #10 (A Sporting Chance) on Watson's Woes.
> 
> A Sporting Chance: Include one or more bits of sporting gear in your entry. What the gear is (bathing costume? Roller skates? Tennis racquet?) is entirely up to you.

I struggle in vain to close the distance between myself and Smith. In my younger days, I would have caught him in a flash. But now I can barely keep up with my quarry as he bolts across the pitch like a frightened hare.

Watson was only a step behind me at the start of this chase, but now his footfalls are sounding fainter. I cannot spare him a backward glance at the risk of slowing down even further, but I can deduce he has fallen behind, unable to keep up the pace any longer.

The distance is widening. Smith is going to escape, damn him. My thoughts are buzzing like a swarm of angry bees, stinging me with the harsh truth:

_I am getting too old for this._

A rugby ball interrupts my self-castigation as it hurtles past my peripheral vision and smacks Smith in the head. He goes down instantly from Watson's impeccable throw. The gap is finally closed and the derbies are clapped onto the dazed criminal's wrists.

Watson finally catches up to me. Despite our exertions, we have caught our breath faster than I had anticipated. His triumphant grin is contagious, and scatters the black swarm away from my thoughts. My dear Watson, still as game as they come after all these years. His effusive praise of how I deduced the cunning villain's identity also reminds me that while my physical speed has faltered, my mental agility and the thrill of the work has not.

I know the time for retirement will inevitably come—but not just yet.


End file.
